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THE 

Alcestis  of  Euripides 


TRANSLATED  INTO  ENGLISH  VERSE 

BY 

The  Class  of  1 900  of  Beloit  College 

REVISED  BY 

The  Committee  on  Publication  of  1 908 

FOR 

The  Twenty-first  Annual  Rendition 
of  the  Classical  Department. 


That  strangest,  saddest,  sweetest  song. 

— Robert  Browning 


Beloit  Daily  Free  Press  Print 
1908 


\ f % J*  ' 


s*  \ 


THE  ALCESTIS  OF  EURIPIDES 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 


Apollo,  the  Sun-god F.  J.  Platt 

Death  W.  D.  Wollesen 

Alcestis,  queen  of  Pherae  Natalie  Thornton 

Admetus,  king  of  Pherae  H.  A.  Arnold 

Eumelus,  their  son Master  Ned  Worthington 

Their  daughter  Miss  Elizabeth  Fox 

Heracles,  guest  of  Admetus  E.  C.  Porter 

Pheres,  aged  father  of  Admetus  F.  W.  Traner 

Wife  of  Pheres  Edith  Emery 

Therapon  (a  man-servant)  A.  H.  Richardson 

Therapaina  (a  maid-servant)  Charlotte  Richardson 

Choragus  C.  W.  Howe 

Coryphaei  W.  F.  Ayer  and  F.  H.  Millett 


Chorus  of  Citizens  of  Pherae — 

Messrs.  Brace,  Eddy,  Gaines,  C.  W.  Howe,  E.  Howe, 
Howell,  Lentzner,  Northrop,  Powers,  Putnam,  Rife, 
L.  H.  Riggs,  R.  I.  Riggs,  Shepard,  Spooner. 

The  Queen’s  Attendants — 

Misses  Adams,  Arthur,  Douglass,  G.  M.  Hubbard, 
K.  W.  Miller,  Richards,  Rowntree,  DeWitt. 

The  King’s  Attendants — 

Messrs.  Boutwell,  Bunge,  Brandt,  Coonradt,  Schur- 
man,  Zeininger. 

Pheres’  Attendants — 

Messrs.  Brown,  Candy,  Jeffris,  Nilson,  Mitchell, 
Schmidt. 

Attendants  of  Pheres'  Wife — 

Misses  Nellie  Myers  and  Clarke. 


Harp  Miss  Della  M.  Sehrt 

Flute  Leslie  Hammill,  ex-’09 

Clarinet  Paul  Nilson,  ’ll. 


54954 


COMMITTEES. 


Business  Manager E.  W.  Hale 

Assistant  Business  Manager  L.  L.  Maurer 


Committee  on  Publication  — 

Meissrs.  T.  G.  Allen  and  Hyde,  Miss  Clarke. 

Committee  on  Stage-Setting  and  Costumes — 

Messrs.  Jones,  Worf,  Mitchell,  Misses  G.  M.  Hub- 
bard and  Rowntree. 


NOT® — The  music  used  on  this  occasion  is  that  com- 
posed by  Chas.  Harford  Lloyd  for  the  performance  at  Ox- 
ford University,  England,  in  1887.  It  was  on  that  occasion 
sung  in  the  original  Greek,  and  the  translation  now  sung 
was  made  by  the  same  composer,  differing  therefore  from 
the  paraphrases  printed  in  this  libretto. 


ARGUMENT. 


Admetus,  King  of  Pherae,  in  Thessaly,  once  kindly 
received  Apollo,  when  that  god  was  for  a while  banished 
from  Olympus  and  compelled  to  be  a servant  to  a mortal. 
Afterwards,  when  the  king  was  sick  and  at  the  point  of 
death,  Apollo  won  the  consent  of  the  Fates  that  the 
King’s  life  should  be  spared,  provided  that  some  one 
could  be  found  to  die  in  his  stead.  His  father,  his  mother, 
and  his  friends  declined  to  save  him  thus;  but  his  wife, 
Alcestis,  offered  to  die  for  the  sake  of  her  husband. 

The  drama  opens  with  the  approach  of  Death  to 
claim  his  victim. 

Just  after  Alcestis  has  died,  when  the  funeral  rites  are 
in  progress,  Heracles  arrives  in  Pherae,  journeying  toward 
Thrace  upon  one  of  his  labors.  Admetus  receives  him 
hospitably,  hiding  his  own  cause  of  grief,  letting  Heracles 
suppose  that  some  stranger’s  funeral  is  in  pro-gress.  When 
Heracles  learns  from  a servant  that  it  is  Alcestis  who 
has  died,  he  goes  to  the  tomb,  wrestles  with  Death,  re- 
covers Alcestis,  and  in  his  own  crafty  style  restores  her 
to  the  happy  king. 


ALCESTIS 


SCENE. — The  Grove  in  front  of  the  Palace  of  Admetus. 
PROLOGUE 
Enter  APOLLO 

Apollo.  0 palace  of  Admetus,  where  I deigned, 

Although  a go-d,  to  take  a servant’s  fare! 

When  Zeus  slew  Aesculapius,  my  son, 

By  hurling  on  his  breast  the  thunder-bolt, 

Then  I,  enraged,  the  mighty  Cyclops  slew, 

Who  forge  for  Zeus  his  awful  thunderbolts. 

In  punishment  for  that,  my  father  bade 
That  I should  serve  for  hire  with  mortal  men. 
So  coming  to  this  land  I tended  herds 
In  King  Admetus’  hospitable  realm 
And  have  preserved  his  house  until  today, 

Since . Pheres’  son  I found  a godly  man, 

Whose  holiness  was  equal  to  my  own; 

And  him  I saved  from  death  by  cheating  fate. 

The  Fates  allowed  me  this:  that  King  Admetus 
Should  have  escape  from  his  impending  death 
If  he  could  find  a soul  to  take  his  place. 

But  having  tried  and  tested  all  his  friends, 

His  aged  father  and  his  mother  too, 

He  found  not  one  to  suffer  death  for  him 
And  view  life’s  light  no  more, — except  his  wife. 

So  now  within  the  house  she  breathes  her  last 
Supported  in  the  arms  of  weeping  friends; 

For  fate  decreed  that  she  should  die  today. 

So,  lest  upon  me  in  this  home  should  come 
The  stains  of  death,  I leave  its  sheltering  roof, — 
But  nay, — near  by  I see  the  form  of  Death, 

The  priest  of  the  dead,  intent  on  bearing  down 
The  queen  to  Hades’  realms.  Meet  time  is  this 


8 


ALCESTIS 


For  him  to  come,  since  he  observes  this  day 
On  which  ’tis  destined  that  Alcestis  die. 

Enter  Death. 

Death.  Ho!  Ho!  Ha!  Ha! 

Why  art  thou,  O Apollo,  still  lingering  here 
At  the  front  of  the  palace?  My  heart  hath  its  fear 
Thou  wouldst  limit  the  rights  of  the  gods  of  the 
dead, 

And  stay  the  dread  sway  of  our  dooms  and  our 
dread. 

’Tis  enough  that  thy  meddling  protected  Admetus, 
Once  cheating  the  Fates  in  thy  zeal  to  defeat  us; 
Yet  now  still  again  with  thy  hand  on  thy  bow 
Thou  wouldst  rescue  Alcestis  who  promised  to  go 
To  her  death  in  the  stead  of  Admetus. 

Ap.  Fear  not!  Know  well  my  cause  is  just  and  clear. 
Dea.  What  need  of  weapons  if  thy  cause  is  just? 

Ap.  It  is  my  custom  thus  to  bear  this  bow. 

Dea.  It  is  thy  custom  thus  to  aid  this  King! 

Ap.  I sorrow  at  the  sorrows  of  my  friend. 

Dea.  But  wilt  thou  rob  me  of  a second  corpse? 

Ap.  By  force  I never  took  thy  dead  from  thee. 

Dea.  How  is  it  then  Admetus  still  lives  on? 

Ap.  He  gave  Alcestis  as  his  substitute. 

Dea.  Whom  I am  come  to  carry  to  my  depths. 

Ap.  Take  her  and  go,  I doubt  of  thy  consent — 

Dea.  To  slay  them  whom  I ought?  That  is  my  right! 

Ap.  Nay,  rather  slay  the  old  whose  race  is  run. 

Dea.  I know  thy  logic  and  detect  thy  wish. 

Ap.  Tell  me: — how  may  Alcestis  reach  old  age? 

Dea.  She  never  can!  My  honors  please  me  too. 

Ap.  At  most  thou  takest  but  the  single  life. 

Dea.  I gain  more  glory  when  the  youthful  die. 

Ap.  But  aged  wives  receive  more  pomp  at  death. 
Dea.  Thou  suitest  my  laws,  O Phoebus,  to  the  rich. 

Ap.  Old  Death  is  shrewder  than  I thought  he  was! 
Dea.  The  rich  would  buy  the  chance  of  dying  old. 


ALCESTIS 


Ap.  Then  wilt  thou  buy  my  deepest  gratitude? 

Dea.  Nay,  I will  not;  thou  know’st  my  old-time  ways — 
Ap.  Yes,  ways  detested  (by  both  gods  and  men! 

Dea.  Thou  canst  not  have  all  things  thou  oughtst 
not  have. 

Ap-  But  yield  thou  shalt,  though  cruel  be  thy  heart; 

A man  of  strength  approacheth  Pheres’  halls, 
Sent  by  his  master  to  the  land  of  Thrace, 
Snow-capped  and  cold,  to  bring  for  Eurystheus 
thence 

A prize  of  chariot  and  horses  twain. 

He,  while  a guest  within  Admetus’  house, 

By  force  shall  wrest  this  woman  from  thy  grasp. 
Still  thou  wilt  not  deserve  our  grateful  thanks; 
Thou  dost  thine  ugly  part  and  winnest  my  hate! 
Dea.  too  long  thou  art  talking,  nor  shalt  gain  thereby. 
To  Hades’  halls  this  woman  shall  descend. 

I go  for  her;  my  sword  begins  its  work; 

That  life  is  sacred  to  the  gods  of  death 
Whose  head  and  hair  this  blade  shall  consecrate. 

{Exeunt.) 

PARODOS.  [Entry  of  the  Chorus.] 

STROPHE  A. 

Cho.  What  means  this  silence  everywhere? 
Admetus’  house  is  still. 

No  friend  of  ours  comes  forth  to  bear 
The  news  of  good  or  ill. 

We  know"  not  if  Alcestis  lives 
And  sees  the  light  of  life, 

Or  if  the  King  already  grieves 
For  his  devoted  wife. 

ANTISTROPHE  A. 

Canst  hear  the  sound  of  wailing  shrill 
Or  hands  that  tear  the  hair? 

Oh  Healing-God,  arise  and  still 


10 


ALCESTIS 


The  storm  of  our  despair! 

Alcestis’  spirit  is  not  fled! 

How  know  ye  more  than  we? 

We  see  no  honors  for  the  dead 
In  due  solemnity. 

STROPHE  B. 

There  are  no  signs  of  Hades  there, 

No  lustral  vase  to  stand 
Before  the  door,  nor  tress  of  hair. 

Nor  din  of  mourner’s  hand. 

And  yet  today  is  the  fatal  day!  — 

What  day?  Sing  on,  we  crave. 

The  day  she  goes  her  lonely  way 
To  the  dark  and  silent  grave. 

ANTISTROPHE  B. 

No  messenger  or  ship  can  bring 
The  drugs  of  foreign  shore; 

The  gods  to  whom  we  pray  and  sing 
Are  merciful  no  more; 

For  since  the  Son  of  Light  delays 
In  Hades’  darkling  rooms, 

No  hopeful  hand  is  reached  to  raise 
The  fallen  from  their  dooms. 

FIRST  EPISODE. 

Chorus-Leader.  But  now  a servant  issues  from  the  door. 

(Enter  a Maid- servant.) 

She  moans  and  weeps!  What  news  am  I to  hear? 
’Tis  pardonable  to  grieve  if  aught  befalls 
Thy  master  or  thy  mistress.  We  would  ask 
If  still  our  lady  liyes,  or  is  she  dead. 

Maid-Servant.  She  lives,  and  yet\  is  dead,  ’tis  fair  to  say. 

Ch.  How  can  the  lady  die  and  be  alive? 

Maid.  Even  now  she  bows  her  head  and  breathes  her 
last. 


ALCESTIS 


11 


Ch. 

Maid. 

Ch. 

Maid. 

Ch. 

Maid. 

Ch. 


Maid-Serv. 


Then,  wretched  king,  of  what  a wife  bereft! 

Until  he  suffers  it,  he  cannot  know. 

Is  there  no  hope  her  life  may  yet  be  spared? 
The  fated  day  now  presses  on  her  hard. 

Are  all  the  funeral  draperies  prepared? 

Yes,  all  is  ready  for  her  burial-rites. 

Now  let  her  know  in  dying  she  is  far 
The  best  and  noblest  woman  ’neath  our  sun. 

The  best  of  women,  surely,  who  disputes? 

To  rival  her,  what  must  a woman  be? 

How  could  wife  better  reverence  her  lord 
Than  by  her  willingness  to  die  for  him? 

Now  all  our  city  knows  Alcestis’  love, 

Yet  hear  and  marvel  at  her  homely  ways: 

For  when  she  knew  the  fated  day  was  here 
She  bathed  her  fair  white  skin  in  fountain  floods 
And,  taking  out  her  lovely  draperies 
From  chests  of  cedar-wood,  she  robed  herself; 
Then  stood  before  the  household  shrine  and 
prayed ; 

“Goddess,  since  now  I go  beneath  the  earth, 

“I  kneel  before  thee  with  this  last  request — 
“This  final  favor — guard  my  orphaned  ones. 

“For  both  of  them  secure  a noble  marriage, 
“And  may  they  never  share  their  mothers  lot, 
“But  both  live  out  long  lives  of  happiness 
“To  die  at  last  in  their  ancestral  land.” 

To  every  altar  in  Admetus’  house 
She  then  approached.  With  leaves  of  myrtle 
boughs 

She  garlanded  them  all.  At  each  she  prayed. 
But  did  not  weep,  as  yet,  nor  groan,  nor  change 
Her  sweet  complexion  for  her  fate’s  approach; 
But  in  her  chamber,  prostrate  on  her  couch, 

Ah,  there  she  shed  her  tears,  and  wept,  and  said: 
“Oh  couch  where  I gave  up  my  maidenhood 
“For  this  man’s  sake  for  whose  sake  now  I die, 
“Farewell — I hate  thee  not,  I love  thee — but — 


12 


ALCESTIS 


“ ’Tis  only  I — I feared  my  husband’s  death 
“And  so  for  him  I die  and  he  lives  on. 

“And  thee,  my  couch,  some  other  wife  shall  know, 
“Perhaps  no  truer  but — more  fortunate.” 

She  falls  upon  her  couch  and  kisses  it 
And  sprinkles  it  with  gushing  tides  of  tears; 

Then,  satiate  with  sobs,  she  staggers  forth 
To  leave  the  bed,  but  comes  to  it  again 
And  flings  herself  in  faint  prostration  there. 

The  children  held  their  mother’s  gown  and 
cried, 

Until  the  dying  woman  in  her  arms 

Clasped  now  the  boy  and  now  the  girl  in  love. 

Meantime  we  servants  pityingly  wailed. 

She  heard,  and  gave  her  hand  to  each  to  take — 
No  slave  of  us  too  lowly  in  her  sight 
To  get  and  give  the  greetings  of  Farewell. 

Such  are  the  troubles  in  Admetus’  palace; 

If  he  had  died — why,  he  would  just  have  died; 
But  in  escaping  death  he  gains  a sorrow 
That  must  abide  on  him  forever  more. 

Ch.  Does  King  Admetus  mourn  in  misery 
That  he  is  robbed  of  such  a noble  wife? 

Maid.  Indeed  he  mourns.  He  holds  her  in  his  arms 
Beseeching  that  she  leave  him  not, — in  vain, 

For  with  disease  she  wastes  away  and  dies; 
Her  hands  hang  heavy  and  she  scarcely  breathes, 
But  yet  she  wills  to  come  into  the  sun 
To  see  once  more  its  circle  and  its  rays 
Before  her  palace  door  one  dear  last  time. 

All  men  are  not  so  loyal  to  their  lords 
To  make  them  kindly  visits  in  distress. 

I recognize  my  master’s  year-iong  friends. 

FIRST  STAS  I MON.  [Choral  Song.] 

STROPHE. 

O Zeus!  What  release  from  these  troubles  can 
come? 


ALCESTIS  13 

What  escape  from  misfortunes  that  cloud  the 
king’s  home? 

What  word  from  within? 

Must  our  mourning  begin 
With  the  shearing  of  tresses 
And  sweeping  black  dresses? 

’Tis  too  certain, — too  certain; — and  yet,  oh  my 
friends. 

Let  us  pray  to  the  gods,  for  their  power  never 
ends : 

Hear,  Apollo,  our  cries, 

And  arise!  and  arise 
To  deliver  the  man. 

As  a god  only  can! 

As  before  thou  hast  rescued  our  king  from  all 
harm. 

So  again  smite  dread  Death  with  thy  champion 
arm! 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Alas,  son  of  Pheres,  no  voice  shall  refuse 
To  wail  as  thou  wailest  the  wife  thou  must  lose. 
When  we  hear  of  her  death 
We  would  draw  our  last  breath 
With  the  noose  or  the  knife, — 

And  an  end  to  our  life! 

For  now,  oh  Death-Day  of  our  Queen,  as  thou 
nearest, 

We  call  her  not  dear,  but  we  call  her  the  dearest! 
But  behold  ye!  Behold! 

How  the  portals  unfold 
Where  the  queen  and  her  king 
Come  forth  while  we  sing: 
“Lamentations!”  and  bid  the  whole  city  reply: 
“Lamentations!”  for  her  who  is  passing  to  die. 
Ch.Leader.  Knowing  the  past,  we  are  constrained  to  sing: 

Where  are  the  pleasures  that  marriages  bring? 
Is  not  sorrow  and  sighing  the  usual  thing? 


14 


ALCESTIS 


Thus  hard  is  the  lot  has  befallen  the  king. 

He  shall  find,  in  the  loss  of  so  perfect  a wife, 
That  the  life  that  he  keeps  has  become — no  life. 


SECOND  EPISODE. 

Enter  Alcestis,  Admetus,  Eumelus,  and  attendants. 


Alcestis. 

Adm. 

Alc. 

Adm. 

Alc. 


Adm. 

Alc. 


Adm. 

Alc. 


O Sun!  Light  of  day! 

Swift  cloud-whirls  of  sky! 

The  Sun  sees  thee  and  me,  unhappy  pair 
Who  have  done  the  gods  no  wrong — and  yet  thou 
diest. 

Ah,  Home  far  away! 

A bride  there  was  I! 

Uplift  thyself,  poor  wife,  in  fortitude; 

Beseech  the  powerful  gods  to  pity  thee. 

Death’s  boat,  lo,  I see 
And  a form  at  the  oar. 

It  is  Charon  waits  for  me 
To  ferry  me  o’er. 

He  calls:  “Why  delay? 

Nay,  on!  Hasten  on!” 

With  him,  on  my  way, 

I soon  shall  be  gone. 

A bitter  boat-ride  this  you  tell  us  of, 

Ill-fated  wife;  ah  me,  how  deep  our  hurt! 

To  the  Death-Halls  below 
He  leads — leads  me  weeping; 

His  great  eye-baills  glow ! 

His  dark  wings  are  sweeping! 

Unhand!  Let  me  go!  — 

Unfortunate  and  creeping 
My  last  path  of  woe! 

Path  piteous  for  thy  friends,  and  more  than  all 
For  me  and  for  thy  children,  suffering  here. 
There!  There!  Let  me  lie;  — 

My  feet  have  no  strength; 

The  Death-god  draws  nigh; 


ALCESTIS 


15 


And  night  conies  at  length 
To  make  dark  my  eye. 

And  'children — children  mine — 

You  have  no  mother  more! 

But  I pray  Heaven  to  shine 
Upon  you,  as  before! 

Adm.  Ah  me!  sadder  than  death 
I feel  thy  dying  breath; 

Thy  farewell  parting  tone 
Is  leaving  us  alone. 

I care  not  to  live 
When  thou  hast  departed; 

All  life’s  praise  I give 
To  thee,  my  true-hearted! 

Alc.  Admetus,  since  thou  seest  my  dying  state, 

I long  to  tell  my  wishes  ere  I go. 

To  show  devotion  unto  thee,  I die, 

Since  for  thy  life  mine  own  I give,  and  thou 
Art  left  behind  to  see  the  light  of  days. 

In  doing  this  I honor  thee,  although 
I might  live  on  and  get  as  husband  one 
Of  the  Thessalian  lords  I might  desire; 

And  I might  still  be  dwelling  in  a home 
Made  ever  happy  by  its  lordly  wealth; 

And  yet  I neither  wished  to  live  if  torn 
Prom  thee,  to  see  my  little  children  left 
As  orphans  desolate,  nor  spared  my  gifts 
Of  youth  and  grace  in  which  I used  to  joy. 

And  yet  thy  father  and  thy  mother  too, 

In  selfish  love  of  life,  gave  up  their  son 
To  death,  though  they  had  come  unto  the  time 
When  their  decease  might  seem  appropriate, 

And  when  their  death  might  save  their  son  and  gain 
Unto  themselves  a glorious  renown; 

For  thou  alone  remainst  to  claim  from  them 
A parent’s  care  and  love,  and  shouldst  thou  die 
They  never  can  have  other  manly  sons. 

If  they  had  undertaken  the  sacrifice 


16 


ALCESTIS 


Then  thou  and  I together  might  live  on 
Our  space  of  time  and  thou,  alone,  wouldst  not 
Be  mourning  for  thy  dying  wife  nor  see 
Thy  children  orphaned  of  a mother’s  <care. 
However,  we  should  not  complain.  Some  god 
In  heaven  above  has  brought  this  thing  to  pass. 
So  let  it  be!  But  now  I beg  that  thou 
Remember  to  be  grateful  unto  me, 

And  freely  grant  one  favor  for  my  sake. 

I shall  not  ask  such  favor  as  I might 
In  my  desert.  I cannot  ask  thee  that! 

For  nothing  is  as  precious  as  one’s  life. 

But  my  request  is  just,  thou  wilt  confess, 

For  thou  art  fond  of  both  our  little  ones 
As  I am, — if  thy  father-heart  be  true, 

My  wish  is  this:  May  these  grow  up  to  be 
The  lord  and  lady  of  our  royal  house. 

No  step-mother  unkind  to  them  wed  thou, 

Lest  she,  more  rude  than  I,  in  envy  lay 

Harsh  hands  upon  our  children — thine  and  mine. 

Oh,  surely,  thou  wilt  not  do  that,  I beg, 

For  scarce  so  gentle  as  a viper  comes 
A step-mother  to  work  her  hostile  spite 
Upon  the  children  of  a former  wife. 

My  boy,  thou  hast  thy  father  for  thy  tower; 
But  oh,  my  girl,  how,  in  thy  maiden  days, 

Canst  thou  be  blessed  by  her  thy  father  weds, 
Who  would  too  surely  scandalize  thy  fame 
And  wreck  thy  prospects  in  thy  bloom  of  youth? 
For  never  shall  I deck  thee  as  a bride 
Nor  comfort  thee,  my  child,  in  child-birth  pangs 
Where  naught  counts  kindly  as  a mother’s  care, 
For  I must  die, — and  not  tomorrow, — nor 
The  next  day, — nor  the  next  day  after  that;  — 
Today  I shall  be  named  among  the  lost. 
Farewell;  be  happy.  Husband,  thou  canst  boast 
Thou  hadst  the  best  of  women  for  thy  wife, 

And,  children,  ye  have  had  the  best  of  mothers. 


ALCESTIS 


17 


Ch.Leadek.  Take  heart;  thy  husband,  I am  bold  to  say, 

Is  not  so  foolish  to  dispute  thy  wishes. 

Adm.  it  shall  be  as  thou  wishest;  tremble  not, 

For  since  I had  thee  living,  so  in  death 
Thou,  and  thou  only,  shalt  be  called  my  wife. 
No  maid  of  Thessaly  is  good  enough 
In  beauty  or  in  rank  to  take  thy  place. 

My  children  are  enough;  I pray  in  these 
To  find  the  happiness  I miss  in  thee. 

My  grief  for  thee  is  not  a year-long  thing, 

But  lasting,  lady,  as  my  life  shall  last. 

My  father  and  my  mother  I will  hate 
For  they  were  loving  only  in  their  talk; 

But  thou  for  me  didst  give  the  best  thou  hadst, 
And  life  was  spared  to  me,  who  am  deprived 
Of  such  a mate.  What  can  I do  but  mourn? 

An  end  to  all  convivial  feasts,  to  wreaths 
And  to  the  songs  which  heretofore  have  pleased 
My  happy  home!  and  may  I never  care 
To  touch  the  tuneful  lyre,  or  lift  my  voice 
To  follow  with  the  Libyan  flute!  My  life 
Will  be  devoid  of  joy,  bereft  of  thee. 

An  image  in  thy  likeness,  made  by  men 
Who  know  their  art,  upon  thy  couch  I’ll  lay. 

Then  fall  on  it  and  olasip  it  in  my  arms 
And  call  upon  my  wife’s  familiar  name; 

’Twill  seem  as  though  I had  my  arms  around 
My  own  dear  love, — who  lives  no  longer!  Cold 
The  joy  methinks,  but  yet  it  might  assuage 
My  grief.  Oh,  visit  me  in  dreams,  for  thus 
Thou  wilt  rejoice  my  heart,  since  sweet  it  is 
To  see  one’s  friends  if  e’er  they  come  at  night. 

If  Orpheus’  tongue  and  melody  were  mine 
And  I could  charm  Persephone,  or  win 
Her  spouse,  and  lead  thee  out  of  Hades,  then 
Not  even  Cerberus  nor  ghostly  Charon 
Could  keep  me  from  returning  thee  alive 
To  this  glad  light.  But  since  ’twas  not  to  be. 


18 


ALCESTIS 


Receive  me  there,  when  Death  o’ertakes  me  here; 
Prepare  my  mansion,  till  I come  to  thee. 

I bid  my  servants  bury  me  beside 

Thy  corse;  the  self-same  cedar  chest  shall  keep 

Us  both,  and  side  by  side  our  forms  will  lie. 

In  death  at  least  I shall  not  be  apart 
From  thee,  my  only  true  and  faithful  friend. 
Cho.  We,  too,  as  friends,  will  share,  oh  friend,  with  thee 
This  grief  for  thy  dear  wife,  our  worthy  queen. 
Alc.  Oh,  children,  ye  have  heard  your  father  say 
That  he  will  never  marry  any  one 
To  govern  you,  or  to  dishonor  me. 

Adm.  Again  I promise  and  will  keep  my  word. 

Alc.  For  this  receive  these  children  from  my  arms. 
Adm.  I take  so  dear  a gift  from  arms  so  dear. 

Alc.  Become  their  mother  and  make  good  my  loss. 
Adm.  Deprived  of  thee  they’ll  need  my  mothering. 

Alc.  Oh  children,  when  I need  to  live  I die. 

Adm.  Ah  me!  what  shall  I do  when  thou  art  lost? 

Alc.  Time  will  assuage  thy  grief;  the  dead  are  nought. 
Adm.  I pray  thee  take  me  with  thee  down  to  death. 
Alc.  It  is  enough  that  I should  die  for  thee. 

Adm.  O Fates,  of  what  a wife  I am  deprived! 

Alc.  Now  darkness  comes  upon  my  heavy  eyes. 

Adm.  I am  undone  if  thou  desertest  me. 

Alc.  Thou  mayst  consider  me  as  one  that’s  dead. 

Adm.  Look  up  and  do  not  leave  thy  children  thus. 

Alc.  I would  not  leave  them — but — Farewell,  Farewell — 
Adm.  Yet  look  on  them  once  more! 

Alc.  I am  as  nought. 

Adm.  What!  Leaveist  thou  us? 

Alc.  Farewell!  {Mcestis  dies.) 

Adm.  Alas,  I’m  lost! 


Ch.Leader.  She  is  gone — Admetus’  wife  exists  no  more. 
Eumelus.  Oh,  mamma  dear  is  gone; 

She  doesn’t  see  the  sun; 

But  leaves  me  here  alone, 

Her  little  orphaned  one! 


ALCESTIS 


19 


See,  see  her  hands  and  eyes; 

Father,  how  still  she  lies; 

0 mother,  hear  me,  hear! 

It  is  your  little  dear 

That  clings  and  calls  to  you, 

And  climbs  to  kiss  you,  too. 

Adm.  She  hears  you  not,  nor  sees  you.  You  and  I, 

Oh  children,  feel  the  whip  of  heavy  fate. 

Eum.  I am  too  young  a child 

To  lose  that  guidance  mild 
That  made  me  reconciled 
When  mamma  spoke  and  smiled. 

My  sister  here  and  I 
Are  suffering  and  cry 
For  father’s  lonely  pain. 

Oh,  father,  ’twas  in  vain 
That  you  'brought  mamma  home, 

For  ere  old  age  could  come 
She  left  us.  All  our  rooms 
Grow  dark  with  funeral-glooms. 

Cho.  Admetus,  thou  must  bear  this  heavy  grief, 

For  thou  art  not  the  first  nor  last  of  men 
To  lose  a noble  wife;  remember  too 
That  all  of  us  are  bound,  sometime,  to  die. 

Adm.  I understand  that  well;  this  grief  came  not 

With  sudden  force;  long  since  I tried  its  power. 
But  I will  now  prepare  the  funeral. 

Ye  must  remain  and  sound  a requiem 
To  Hades’  King,  who  heeds  no  sacrifice. 

1 bid  you  men  of  Thessaly,  o’er  whom 

I rule,  to  share  this  common  grief  for  her, 

And  shear  your  locks,  and  put  on  mourning  garb, 
And  clip,  with  shining  blades,  the  flowing  manes 
From  necks  of  single  horse  and  chariot  team. 

For  twelve  full  months  let  not  the  sound  of  lyre 
Or  flute  be  heard  within  the  city  walls; 

For  I shall  never  carry  to  the  grave 
Another  friend  more  dear  to  me  and  true. 


20 


ALCESTIS 


She  well  deserves  my  praise — she  died  for  me. 

{Exeunt.) 

SECOND  STASIMON.  [Choral  Song.] 

STROPHE  A. 

O,  Alcestis,  light  fast  failing, 

G-one  to  Hades’  sunless  doom. 

Peace  we  pray,  mid  our  bewailing, 

Fill  thy  soul,  dispelling  gloom. 

Once  for  all  let  Hades  know, 

And  let  Charon’s  song  confess, 

That  he  guides  o’er  the  Stygian  flow 
The  very  queen  of  nobleness. 

ANTISTROPHE  A. 

When  the  months’  fast  circling  days 
Bring  the  glad  Carneian  feast 
And  the  full  moon  spreads  her  rays 
Gleaming  o’er  the  happy  East, 

Then  the  bards  in  harmony. 

Tuning  flute  and  harp,  shall  sing, 

Till  in  deathless  praise  of  thee 
Sparta  and  glad  Athens  ring. 

STROPHE  B. 

O for  mighty  power  to  save 

Thy  sweet  life  brought  home  again. 

Back  from  stern  Cocytus’  wave 
To  the  light  and  love  of  men. 

Light  upon  thee  fall  the  clay! 

Thou  shaft  win  an  easy  grave, 

For  thou  givest  up  today 

Life  for  life,  thy  lord  to  save. 

ANTISTROPHE  B. 

No  love  filled  his  mother’s  heart. 

Meager  soul  his  father  showed; 

Wretches!  shrinking  to  depart, 


ALCESTIS 


21 


For  their  son,  down  Hades’  road. 

Brightest  youth  bright  future  cast — 

But  Alcestis  paid  the  price, 

Giving  freely  to  the  last, 

Proving  love  by  sacrifice. 

THIRD  EPISODE. 

Enter  Heracles. 

Her.  Hail,  strangers,  dwellers  in  the  Pherae  lands, 

Is  King  Admetus  in  his  royal  home? 

Cho.  Hail,  Heracles,  Admetus  is  within. 

But  what  adventure  brings  thee  on  thy  way 
To  travel  through  Pheraean  Thessaly? 

Her.  Eurystheus,  King  of  Tiryns,  sets  my  task. 

Cho.  And  whither  bound?  To  what  adventure  sent? 
Her.  To  Thrace,  for  Diomedes’  famous  team. 

Cho.  Canst  thou  obtain  them?  Dost  thou  know  that 
king? 

Her.  I never  yet  have  been  within  his  realm. 

Cho.  Thou  canst  not  take  those  steeds  unless  thou 
lightest. 

Her.  No  labor  is  too  hard  for  Heracles. 

Cho.  Triumphant,  thou  wilt  come;  or  dead,  remain. 
Her.  It  will  not  be  my  first  fierce  contest  won. 

Cho.  What  gain  is  thine,  if  thou  shalt  kill  their  king? 
Her.  To  Tiryns’  ruler  I shall  drive  the  steeds. 

Cho.  But  it  is  difficult  to  bit  their  jaws. 

Her.  Not  difficult  unless  they  breathe  forth  fire. 

Cho.  And  they  eat  men  with  their  devouring  mouths. 
Her.  That  were  a proper  food  for  wilder  beasts. 

Cho.  There  thou  shalt  see  their  mangers  smeared  with 
blood. 

Her.  Whose  son  boasts  he  to  be  that  keeps  the  steeds? 
Cho.  A son  of  Ares,  Lord  of  the  Golden  Shield. 

Her.  The  sons  of  Ares  always  match  my  fortune 

Which  climbs  along  its  hard  and  uphill  course. 

I have  to  meet  them  all  in  fight:  at  first 
It  was  Lycaon;  Cyncus  after  that; 


22 


ALCESTIS 


Now  third  ’tis  Diomedes  and  his  colts;  — 

But  none  shall  ever  see  Alcmene’s  son 
Display  a trembling  arm  before  his  foes. 

Cho.  But  lo!  our  country’s  sovereign  King,  Admetus, 
Now  from  the  palace  portals  issues  forth. 

Enter  Admetus. 

Adm.  I wish  thee  joy,  O Perseus’  son  divine. 

Her.  Joy,  too,  to  thee,  Admetus,  Thessaly’s  king. 

Adm.  No  joy  is  mine,  despite  thy  kind  intent. 

Her.  What  means  this  garb  of  grief,  and  close-clipped 
hair? 

Adm.  Alas!  I must  inter  my  dead  today. 

Her.  May  god  have  brought  no  trouble  to  thy  children! 
Adm.  My  children  in  the  house  are  safe  and  sound. 
Her.  Thy  father  died  in  ripe  old  age,  if  dead. 

Adm.  No  doubt;  but  he  still  lives,  and  mother  lives. 
Her.  Thy  wife  Alcestis  hath  not  caused  thee  grief? 

Adm.  I could  relate  of  her  a two-fold  tale. 

Her.  Sayst  thou  that  she  is  dead  or  yet  alive? 

Adm.  Alive  and  dead,  she  complicates  my  grief. 

Her.  I do  not  understand  thy  riddles,  friend. 

Adm.  Dost  thou  not  know  the  fate  that  threatens  her? 
Her.  I know  she  was  to  die  in  place  of  thee. 

Adm.  In  such  a case  how  can  she  truly  live? 

Her.  Weep  not  thy  wife  until  her  day  shall  come. 
Adm.  If  soon  to  die,  then  dead!  And  death  ends  all! 
Her.  I hold  that  life  and  death  are  different. 

Adm.  That  is  thy  point  of  view;  I keep  mine  own. 

Her.  Why  weep?  What  dear  one  of  thy  home  hath  died? 
Adm.  A woman  is  the  one  we  have  in  mind. 

Her.  A stranger,  or  a woman  of  thy  kin? 

Adm.  A stranger,  yes,  but  precious  in  our  home. 

Her.  Why  in  thy  family  did  this  stranger  die? 

Adm.  Her  father  died  and  left  his  orphan  here. 

Her.  Farewell!  I would  I found  thee  not  so  sad. 

Adm.  What  wilt  thou  do,  or  what  hast  thou  in  mind? 
Her.  I have  in  mind  to  seek  another’s  hearth. 


ALCESTIS 


23 


Adm.  No,  no,  my  lord,  bring  not  that  grief  on  me. 

Heb.  But  guests  are  troublesome  to  hosts  in  grief. 
Adm.  The  dead  are  dead,  so  welcome  to  my  house, — 
Heb.  When  hosts  are  sad,  then  guests  ought  not  to  feast. 
Adm.  Our  guest-rooms  lie  apart.  There  shalt  thou  lodge. 
Her.  Nay,  let  me  go!  And  thanks  a thousand  times — 
Adm.  I must  forbid  that  thou  shouldst  leave  this  hearth 
For  another’s.  Slaves,  conduct  this  guest  to  rooms 
That  lie  remote;  there  throw  the  chambers  wide 
And  bid  the  men  to  make  a royal  feast; 

But  bolt  securely  all  the  inner  doors — 

It  is  not  fit  that  guests  should  hear  our  groans. 

{Exit  Heraci.es.) 

Cho.  What  dost  thou,  King?  Misfortune  presses  hard, 
And  art  though  mad  enough  to  welcome  guests? 
Adm.  But  if  I turned  away  from  home  and  town 

A guest,  and  wanderer,  would  ye  praise  me  more? 
Not  so,  since  thus  my  trouble  were  not  less, 

But  rather  I were  proved  the  ruder  man. 

So  to  the  griefs  already  mine  add  not 
The  grief  that  calls  my  home  inhospitable. 

This  prince  I always  found  a noble  host 
Whene’er  I visited  his  Argive  town. 

Cho.  if  he  who  came  is  such  a friend  of  thine. 

Why  hide  from  him  thy  present  misery? 

Adm.  He  never  would  consent  to  enter  here 

If  he  were  well  aware  how  deep  I’m  pained. 

To  some,  I think,  I seem  unwise  in  this, 

Nor  will  ye  praise  me,  but  be  sure  my  house 
Has  never  learned  to  thrust  away  its  guests. 

{Exit) 

THIRD  STASIMON.  [Choral  Song.] 

STROPHE  A. 

Cho.  Royal  palace,  free  to  strangers, 

Here  Apollo  deigned  to  dwell, 

While  the  cattle  from  their  mangers 


24 


ALCESTIS 


Listened  to  the  music-spell 
Of  his  whistling  as  he  led  them 
Down  the  hillside  to  the  dell, 

Where  the  pastoral  piping  fed  them 
On  the  tunes  they  loved  so  well. 

Hail  Admetus,  King  Admetus, 
Prince  Apollo  loved  thee  well! 

ANTISTROPHE  A. 

There  in  joy  to  hear  thy  singing 
Came  the  spotted  lynxes  out 
From  the  forests,  and  were  bringing 
All  the  tawny  lion-rout. 

With  the  dappled  fawns  beside  them 
They  went  dancing  round  about 
That  great  harp  that  mystified  them 
And  Apollo’s  music-shout! 

Hail  Apollo,  Prince  Apollo, 

Join  with  ours  thy  music-shout! 

STROPHE  B. 

Rich  in  flocks  is  King  Admetus 
In  his  palace  by  the  shore, 

Where  his  fertile  plow-lands  greet  us 
With  their  harvest’s  golden  store. 
His  dominion  he  extendeth 

From  the  sunset’s  darkening  door 
To  where  Pelion’s  Mountain  endeth 
And  Aegsean  billows  pour. 

Hail  Admetus,  King  Admetus, 
We  are  loyal  evermore. 

ANTISTROPHE  B. 

Take  the  stranger  to  thy  dwelling, 
Where  thy  wife  lies  newly  dead, 
Hiding  all  thy  tears  upwelling 

In  the  welcomes  thou  hast  said; 
Thus  thy  nobleness  is  showing 


ALCESTIS 


25 


How  a spirit  highly  bred 
Moves  to  honor,  ever  knowing 

Hopes  to  bless  the  day  of  dread. 

Hail  Admetus,  King  Admetus, 

Heaven’s  light  is  on  thee  shed! 

FOURTH  EPISODE. 

Enter  Admetus  and  the  Funeral  Train. 

Adm.  Pheraean  men,  steadfastly  present  here, 

Already  the  attendants  bear  along 
The  corpse,  prepared  and  clothed  for  tomb  and 
pyre. 

So  ye,  as  custom  is,  speak  your  farewell 
To  her  departing  on  the  last,  sad  way. 
Chorus-Leader.  I see  thy  sire  approach  with  aged  step 
And  with  him  servants  bearing  in  their  hands 
Adornment  for  thy  wife,  fit  honors  for  the  dead. 

Enter  Pher.es  and  his  Wife. 

Pheres.  I come,  O son,  and  share  thy  sorrowings, 

Since  no  one  will  dispute  that  thou  hast  lost 
A noble  and  a prudent  wife.  And  yet 
We  needs  must  bear  our  grief,  though  hard  to 
bear! 

Receive  this  decoration.  Let  it  go 
With  her  beneath  the  earth.  We  ought  to  heap 
Much  love  on  her  who  died  for  thee,  my  son, 
Who  spared  my  child,  nor  suffered  me  to  die, 
Grieving  for  thee,  in  melancholy  age. 

Most  noble  she  who  dared  this  noble  deed! 

More  glorious  grew  the  life  of  all  her  sex 
Because  of  that  high  deed  she  dared  to  do. 

O thou  who  hast  preserved  my  son  and  me 
From  destined  death,  farewell,  and  mayst  thou 
find 

A due  reward  in  life  beyond  the  grave. 

Such  unions  bless  men,  or  all  marriage  fails. 
Adm.  Thou  comest  to  this  funeral  unbid! 


26 


ALCESTIS 


Thy  presence  here  is  hateful;  for  thy  gifts 
She  shall  not  wear,  nor  at  her  burial 
Need  aught  of  thine.  Ah,  that  was  fitter  time 
To  sympathize  with  me,  when  I was  doomed! 

But  then  thou  stoodst  aside,  tho’  thou  wast  old, 
And  didst  allow  the  youthful  wife  to  die. 

Yet  now  canst  thou  lament  my  dead  and  mourn? 
Thou  wast  not  truly  father  of  this  king, 

Nor  she  my  mother,  tho’  she  claims  to  be. 

My  so-called  parents  never  gave  me  birth. 

It  must  be  that  of  slaves’  blood  I was  born 
And  substituted  as  this  woman’s  child. 

Well  didst  thou  show,  when  thou  wast  put  to  test, 
The  man  within  thee.  Never  may  I trace 
My  pedigree  to  thee.  Thy  lack  of  soul 
Hath  bad  pre-eminence  in  all  the  world! 

For  at  thy  age  and  near  the  bounds  of  life 
Thou  couldst  not  wish,  thou  couldst  not  dare,  to 
die 

To  save  thy  son,  but  hast  allowed  my  wife 
To  waste  away,  whom  I might  justly  call 
Mine  only  father  and  my  mother  too. 

How  fair  for  thee  that  struggle  would  have  been, 
To  die  for  thine  own  offspring.  Short  remained, 

In  any  case,  the  time  thou  hadst  to  stay. 

Then  had  I lived  with  her  in  after-time 
Nor  mourned  my  woes,  left  single  and  alone. 
Whatever  pleasures  any  man  should  taste 
Thou  hast  enjoyed.  Thy  youth  was  past  in  power; 
I was  thy  son,  and  heir  to  thine  estate; 

Not  childless  hadst  thou  died  and  left  thy  home 
To  strangers.  Neither  canst  thou  fairly  say 
Thou  gavest  me  to  die  because  I paid 
Thee  not  due  reverence.  I was  a son 
Who  ever  honored  thee  most  filially, 

And  now,  for  this,  such  thanks  thou  renderest! 
Thou  canst  not  be  too  quick  in  getting  sons 
To  cherish  thee  when  old,  and  after  death 


ALCESTIS 


27 


To  lay  thee  out  and  clothe  thee  for  thy  tomb;  — 
Thou  shalt  no  more  depend  on  me  for  that. 

For  I am  dead  to  thee.  But  if  I chance 
To  find  another  savior,  I will  call 
Myself  his  son  and  the  prop  of  his  old  age. 

The  aged  idly  pray  that  death  may  come, 

Find  fault  with  years  and  the  long  decline  of  life; 
But,  when  death  nears,  their  wish  to  die  is  gone 
And  hoary  age  no  longer  is  a burden. 

Cho.  Be  still.  Sufficient  is  the  trouble  now; 

Urge  not  thy  father  till  his  passion  rage. 

Pheres.  Whom  thinkst  thou,  son,  that  thou  art  hounding 
thus 

With  speech  of  impudence?  Some  Lydian  slave 
Or  Phrygian  bought  in  barter?  Knowst  thou  not 
I am  Thessalian?  Born  of  parents  free, 
Thessalians  too?  Thou  art  grown  insolent. 

But  hurling  boyish  taunts  thou  shalt  not  strike 
And  go  unstruck.  I got  and  reared  thee  lord 
Of  Pheres’  palace.  Duty  does  not  bid 
That  I should  die  for  thee.  Ancestral  law 
And  legislation  of  the  Grecian  states 
Ne’er  made  a father  die  to  save  his  son. 

For  good  or  bad  thy  life  is  all  thine  own. 

What  Fortune  gave  thee,  that  is  thine  to  keep, 
With  sovereign  sway  o’er  many  men.  I leave 
Besides  unmeasured  lands  to  thee.  ’Tis  right, 
For  thus  my  father  left  the  same  to  me. 

In  what  respect,  then,  have  I done  thee  wrong? 
Thou  needst  not  die  for  me  nor  I for  thee. 

Thou  lovest  the  light.  Is  light  not  dear  to  me? 
Long  lasts  our  time  of  darkness  after  death; 

The  time  of  life,  how  short,  and  yet  how  sweet! 
Thou  shamelessly  hast  sought  to  escape  from 
death 

And  hast  outlived  the  allotted  span  of  life 
By  slaying  her.  Then  call’st  thou  me  a coward? 
Thou  craven,  weaker  than  thy  wife  who  gave 


.# 


28 


ALCESTIS 


Her  life  in  barter  for  thy  fine  young  soul! 

Why,  thou  needst  never  die!  At  any  time 
Thou  mayst  persuade  new  wives  to  die  for  thee. 
And  now,  though  fearing  death  thyself,  shalt  thou 
Revile  the  friends  who  would  not  take  thy  place? 
Be  still!  Consider,  if  thou  lovest  thy  life, 

All  men  love  theirs.  If  thou  speak  ill  of  us, 
Truths  many  and  unwelcome  thou  shalt  hear. 
Cho.  Too  much  reviling  now  and  heretofore! 

Desist,  old  man,  cease  thy  vituperations. 

Adm.  Speak  on.  I’ve  had  my  say.  And  if  the  truth 

Is  hateful,  thou  shouldst  not  have  sinned  toward 
me. 

Phe.  In  dying  for  thee,  I would  have  sinned  far  worse. 
Adm.  Is  it  the  same  for  young  and  old  to  die? 

Phe.  I claim  men  ought  to  live  one  life,  not  two. 

Adm.  But  thou,  it  seems,  wouldst  outlive  Zeus  himself. 
Phe.  Dost  curse  thy  parents?  We  did  thee  no  harm. 
Adm.  I curse  thee  for  thy  fondness  for  long  life. 

Phe.  Is  not  this  corpse  borne  forth  instead  of  thine? 
Adm.  No;  as  a sign  of  thy  faint-heartedness. 

Phe.  She  did  not  die  for  us;  thou’lt  not  say  that. 

Adm.  Enough! 

May’st  thou  come  some  day  to  dire  need  of  me! 
Phe.  Wed  many  women,  that  the  more  may  die. 

Adm.  The  blame  is  thine;  thou  didst  refuse  the  death. 
Phe.  Because  this  Sun-god’s  light  is  dear  to  me. 

Adm.  A craven’s  soul  is  thine  and  not  a man’s. 

Phe.  I have  not  given  thee  my  corpse  to  mock! 

Adm.  When  death  doth  near  thee  thou  shalt  die 
disgraced. 

Phe.  When  I have  died.  I’ll  care  not  for  disgrace. 

Adm.  Ye  gods!  old  age  is  full  of  shamelessness. 

Phe.  She  was  not  shameless,  no;  but  witless  rather. 
Adm.  Go  hence,  and  let  me  bury  this  dear  woman. 
Phe.  I go,  and  thou  who  alone  hast  murdered  her, 
Alone  must  lay  her  underneath  the  sod. 

But  thou  hast  yet  to  satisfy  her  brother; 


ALCESTIS 


29 


No  longer  be  Acastus  deemed  a man 
Till  he  avenge  his  sister’s  blood  with  thine. 
Adm.  Mayst  thou  and  thy  companion  go  acccursed. 
And  childless,  as  ye  well  deserve,  grow  old. 
Although  I am  your  son,  and  still  alive. 

Come  not  with  me  beneath  a common  roof. 

{Exeunt  Phee.es  and  his  Wife.) 

If  there  were  need  of  such  formality 
I formally  renounce  my  childhood’s  home! 

But  let  us  now  proceed,  and  lift  the  corse 
Which  resteth  at  our  feet.  On  to  the  tomb! 

{Exit.) 

FUNERAL  PROCESSIONAL. 

Cho.  Oh  farewell,  ah  farewell. 

Noble  lady,  dearest,  best; 

Where  thou  goest  now  to  dwell 

May  the  Death-gods  grant  thee 
And  if  favors  over  there 

Wait  the  pious  dead  alone, 

Mayst  thou  have  thy  blessed  share 
And  thy  seat  by  Hades’  throne! 

Oh  farewell,  ah  farewell. 

Oh  farewell,  ah  farewell. 

{Enter  a Man-servant) 

Servant.  From  many  distant  lands  have  come  the  guests 
Whom  I have  fed  within  Admetus’  home; 

But  never  yet  have  I received  for  him 
So  mannerless  a guest  as  now  hath  come; 

For  though  he  saw  the  master’s  funeral  woe, 

He  still  dared  enter  at  our  open  gates, 

And  then  with  our  misfortunes  clear  in  mind 
He,  tactless,  took  the  dainties  we  could  serve; 
While,  if  we  loitered  with  the  dish  he  wished. 
He  roared  that  we  should  fetch  it  him  at  once. 
Then  takes  the  wreathed  goblet  in  his  hands 
And  drinks  the  liquor  of  the  vineyard  down 


rest; 


{Exeunt.) 


30 


ALCESTIS 


Until  the  flame  of  wine  is  in  his  brain. 

He  twines  his  head  with  sprigs  of  myrtle-boughs 
And  howls  a song  that  is  no  song  at  all. 

Then  one  might  hear  two  tunes,  for  heedlessly 
Amid  Admetus’  sorrows  he  did  sing,  while  we 
Attendants  wailed  our  mistress’  dirge  and  wept, 
But  showed  the  guest  no  traces  of  our  tears, 
Since  thus  Admetus  had  enjoined  on  us. 

So  in  this  house  I have  to  entertain 
A guest  that  proves  some  knave  and  vagabond; 
And  while  my  mistress  goes  her  last  sad  way 
I cannot  follow  in  the  funeral  train 
Nor  raise  my  hand  and  voice  lamentingly 
For  her  who  was  a mother  to  us  slaves, 

And  often  she  hath  meekly  shielded  us 
From  passions  of  her  husband.  Is  it  wrong 
For  me  to  hate  our  guest  in  times  like  these? 

Enter  Heracles. 

Her.  Ho!  Why  this  sad  and  melancholy  look? 

The  servant  needs  no  long  face  for  the  guest; 
He  should  receive  his  man  with  cheery  soul. 
But  thou,  although  thou  seest  thy  master’s  friend, 
Wouldst  welcome  him  with  wrinkling,  gloomy  brow 
Just  for  some  sorrow  that  concerns  thee  not. 

Come  here,  and  thou  shalt  grow  a wiser  man. 
Canst  thou  philosophize  on  mortal  things? 

I think  not;  for  how  couldst  thou?  Learn  from 
me: 

Death  is  a debt  all  mortals  have  to  pay. 

And  none  of  them  is  wise  enough  to  know 
If  he  shall  live  to  see  to-morrow  come, 

Because  the  paths  of  fortune  run  obscure. — 

Her  courses  are  not  taught  in  any  school. 

Now  hear  my  words  and  take  advice  from  me: 
Rejoice,  be  glad,  drink,  count  this  day-by-day 
Existence  thine,  all  else  belongs  to  Chance! 
Revere  the  goddess  Venus,  far  most  sweet 
To  mortal  man, — a kindly  goddess,  she! 


ALCESTIS 


31 


Let  all  else  pass,  and  heed  wfhat  I have  said 
If  I have  spoken  sense — I think  I have! 

Come,  wilt  thou  not  dismiss  such  heavy  griefs, 
And  passing  though  the  door  with  wreathed  brow 
Drink  wine  with  me?  For  well  I know,  mv  friend, 
The  plash  of  falling  liquor  in  the  cup 
Will  change  thy  downcast,  dismal  look  to  joy. 

We  mortals  ought  to  think  our  mortal  thoughts, 
For  to  all  solemn  men  with  scowling  brows, 

If  it  were  left  for  me  to  judge,  I’d  say, 

Life  is  not  truly  life  but  misery. 

Serv.  We  understand  all  that,  but  deal  with  facts 
Unfitting  revelry  or  laughing  speech. 

Her.  Well,  she  who  died  was  from  beyond  your  gates; 

Grieve  not,  the  master  and  the  mistress  live. 

Serv.  Live!  How?  Dost  thou  not  know  the  sorrow 
here? 

Her.  I do;  unless  thy  lord  hath  lied  to  me. 

Serv.  Too  truly  he  is  far  too  fond  of  guests. 

Her.  Need  he  for  alien  dead  mistreat  a friend? 

Serv.  Too  little  alien  to  this  house  was  she. 

Her.  Had  he  some  sorrow  that  he  told  me  not? 

Serv.  Farewell!  Go  forth!  My  master’s  woes  are  mine. 
Her.  This  tone  doth  not  befit  an  alien  woe. 

Serv.  If  alien,  I would  not  have  jarred  thy  glee. 

Her.  Have  I received  false  treatment  from  my  friend? 
Serv.  You  came  untimely  to  be  entertained. 

We  sorrow  now.  You  saw  the  shaven  heads, 

Dark  robes  of  death  and — 

Her.  Who  is  the  dead?  A child? 

Or  has  the  aged  father  passed  away? 

Serv.  Not  so,  oh  guest,  Admetus’  wife  hath  died. 

Her.  The  wife!  and  could  ye  entertain  me  still? 

Serv.  He  was  ashamed  to  turn  thee  from  his  door. 

Her.  O hapless  man!  How  great  for  thee  this  loss! 
Serv.  Not  she  alone,  but  we  as  well  have  died. 

Her.  Ah  well  I wondered  when  I saw  the  face. 

The  shaven  head,  and  eyes  bedewed  with  tears. — 


32 


ALCESTIS 


He  said  he  carried  to  the  grave  a dame 
Who  lived  with  him,  and  thus  he  put  me  off. 
Against  my  will  I entered  his  abode 
And  feasted  of  his  hospitality 
While  he  was  thus  employed.  Shall  I wear 
wreaths 

And  sing  to  Bacchus  songs  of  revelry? 

I blame  thee,  for  thou  shouldst  have  told  me  all — 
How  Death’s  dark  pall  was  hanging  o’er  the  house. 
Where  doth  he  bury  her?  Will  he  be  there? 
Serv.  The  path  is  straight  down  the  Larissa  road. 

There  thou  shalt  find  the  suburb  sepulcher. 

Her.  o ever  laboring  heart  and  hand  of  mine, 

Now  prove  the  son  Alcmene  bore  to  Zeus! 

Thy  duty  is  to  bring  the  dead  to  life 
And  place  Alcestis  in  this  home  again; 

Thus  shall  I render  service  to  the  king. 

Behold,  I go  to  lie  in  wait  for  Death, 

The  black-gowned  god.  I shall  find  him  now,  I 
think, 

Drinking  the  sacrifices  near  the  tomb. 

And  if  I lie  in  wait  for  him  and  spring 
And  seize  him  from  my  ambuscade  and  throw 
These  arms  encircling  round  the  hated  god, 

No  man  could  ever  snatch  away  my  prey, 

Though  struggling, — till  he  has  surrendered  her. 
But  should  Death  come  not  to  his  clotted  meal 
And  thus  my  hunt  be  vain,  I shall  descend 
To  those  unlighted  homes,  where  dwell  the 
shades, — 

To  Persephone  and  her  king;  and  there  demand 
And  trust  to  lead  Alcestis  to  the  light, 

And  place  her  in  the  arms  of  my  good  host 
Who  hesitated  not  to  welcome  me 
Though  tribulation  rested  over  him. 

Respecting  me,  he  nobly  hid  his  grief. 

What  man  in  Thessaly,  or  who  in  Greece 
More  kind  to  friends  than  King  Admetus  is? 


ALCESTIS 


33 


Therefore  he  shall  not  say  he  entertained 
A guest  ungrateful  for  his  nobleness. 

{Exit.) 

Enter  Admetus  returning  with  the  mourners • 

Adm.  Oh  ye  hateful  approaches  and  hated  shape 

Of  this  widowed  house  whence  we  mourn  the 
escape 

Of  the  soul  of  the  mistress!  Ah,  me!  Alas! 

Shall  I cry  or  be  silent?  Stand  stolid  or  pass 
To  the  door  that  beholds  my  undoing? 

My  mother  has  had  an  unfortunate  son, — 

So  I envy  the  ghosts,  and  my  heart  dotes  upon 
A far-away  home  in  the  palace  of  Death, 

For  earth  hath  no  joy  in  its  light  or  its  breath; 

Its  sun  hath  no  brightness;  its  paths  have  no 
pleasure, 

For  Hades  and  Death  made  away  with  the 
treasure 

That  the  love  of  my  soul  was  pursuing. 

Cho.  On!  On!  Seek  thy  hall! 

Adm.  Woe!  Woe! 

Cho.  Thy  woes  crushing  fall. 

Adm.  Ah ! Ah ! 

Cho.  Though  tears  thou  mayst  shed, 

Adm.  Alas! 

Cho.  They  help  not  the  dead. 

Adm.  Ah  me!  Ah  me! 

Cho.  To  see  thy  loved  one’s  beauty  never  again, 

That  is  my  destiny — and  that  thy  pain. 

Adm.  Ye  touch  me  where  my  very  soul  is  sore; 

A man’s  worst  sorrow  is  to  see  no  more 

His  faithful  wife.  ’T  were  better  ne’er  to  have  led 

My  lady  homeward  on  the  day  I wed. 

I envy  him  who  has  nor  wife  nor  child 

To  aggravate  his  simple  lot  with  wild 

Calamity  and  sorrow  sure  to  come 

And  blight  the  wedding  joys  that  make  his  home. 


34 


ALCESTIS 


Why  need  a man  endure  such  deep  distress 
Who  might  have  lived  in  single  blessedness? 
Cho.  ’Neath  Fate’s  arm  low  bending! 

Adm.  Woe!  Woe! 

Cho.  In  woes  never  ending — 

Adm.  Ah ! Ah ! 

Cho.  Yet  baffle  the  weight 
Adm.  Alas ! 

Cho.  And  hardness  of  Fate, 

Adm.  Ah  me!  Ah  me! 

Cho.  For  thou  art  not  the  first  to  lose  a wife; 

Such  loss  is  common  to  our  mortal  life. 

Adm.  Oh,  too  common  the  sorrow,  too  bitter  the  grief 
For  the  loved  ones  we  bury!  Ah,  why  did  ye 
keep 

Me  from  throwing  myself  in  despair  of  relief 
To  the  deep  of  the  tomb  of  the  dear  one  asleep 
To  awaken  no  more,  by  the  side  of  the  chief 
Of  all  women  to  lie?  For  thus  Death,  at  one 
sweep, 

Would  have  taken  two  souls  of  the  faithful  to 
keep. 

Ch.Leader.  i had  a kinsman  once  whose  only  son  had  died, 

A worthy  lad,  just  showing  youth’s  bright 
bloom ; 

And  yet  my  kinsman  bore  the  blow, — was  paci- 
fied, 

Though  gray  in  age  and  tottering  to  his  tomb. 
Adm.  oh,  shadow  of  home,  can  I enter  within? 

Can  I live  where  I know  that  the  life  that  has  been 
Cometh  never  again?  How  the  message  of  fate 
Has  changed  since  the  day  when  with  songs  at 
my  gate 

And  bright  wedding  torches  I led  by  the  hand 
My  sweet  wife  to  my  door!  Then  the  gay,  noisy 
band 

Of  young  revelers  followed  the  glad  way  we  went 
To  praise  our  high  fortune  and  noble  descent;  — 


ALCESTIS 


35 


Now  dirges  and  groanings  are  sounding  instead 
Of  the  hymns  hymeneal.  I am  solemnly  led 
By  the  black-veiled  attendants  who  beckon  me  on 
To  the  chamber  of  love  I must  enter  alone. 

Cho.  So  close  to  thy  prosperity  thy  trial  came 
It  found  thee  inexperienced  in  grief; 

But  thou  shalt  live  to  know  all  men  have  felt  the 
same 

Sad  loss, — whose  commonness  is  its  relief. 
Adm.  Oh,  friends!  More  fortunate  her  lot  than  mine, 
It  seems  to  me — perhaps  to  others  not — 

Indeed,  no  grief  will  ever  touch  her  now; 

From  many  sorrows  she  is  nobly  freed, 

But  I unjustly  miss  my  destined  fate; 

I still  live  on — at  last  I understand! 

Can  I,  alone,  return  to  this  drear  home? 

Whom  shall  I greet?  By  whom  be  greeted  there? 
A happy  entrance  can  I find?  Where  turn? 
Within,  drear  emptiness  takes  hold  of  me 
To  see  the  seats  where  she  was  wont  to  sit. 

The  unkept  house,  the  floors  left  dusty  now; 

The  children  round  my  knees  lament  their  loss, 
And  servants  with  them  for  their  mistress  mourn. 
Such  troubles  are  at  home,  and  when  I turn 
Mine  eyes  to  view  my  realm,  I shall  behold 
Thessalian  nuptials  filling  all  the  land 
And  see  companions  of  my  own  lost  wife 
In  gatherings  of  joy.  Hard  to  endure 
Will  be  my  life  amid  their  happiness. 

Whoever  is  mine  enemy  will  say, 

“He  lives!  A coward,  for  he  dared  not  die, 

“But  gave  the  life  of  his  own  wedded  wife, 

“To  save  his  soul  from  Hades’  dark  domain. 
“Does  he  appear  to  be  a man?  He  hates 
“Bis  parents,  for  he  feared  to  die  himself.” 

If  such  repute  is  mine  beside  my  woe. 

What  glory  can  it  be  for  me  to  live — 

With  evil  fortune  and  an  evil  name? 


36 


AXCESTIS 


FOURTH  STASIMON.  [Choral  Song.] 

STROPHE  A. 

We’ve  pondered  deep  and  voyaged  around 
This  earth  on  land  and  sea. 

Yet  nothing  stronger  have  we  found 
Than  stern  Necessity. 

We  know  no  mystic  medicine 
Nor  drug  by  Phoebus  given; 

The  fates  of  weary  men  are  in 
The  high  decree  of  Heaven! 

ANTISTROPHE  A. 

Fate  hears  no  prayers  by  mortals  said; 
No  altars  smoke  to  her; 

Ere  Zeus  may  bend  a gracious  head 
He  must  with  her  confer. 

No  metals  of  the  deepest  mines 
Are  strong  enough  for  Fate. 

No  gracious  gentleness  refines 
Her  adamantine  hate. 

STROPHE  B. 

Bear  up!  No  tears  can  ever  raise 
Our  dead  to  life  and  light. 

The  very  sons  of  God  we  praise 
Go  darkling  in  Death’s  night. 

Right  dear  she  was  while  still  with  us, 
And  dear  in  death  shall  be, 

Most  noble  and  most  generous. 

The  wife  that  died  for  thee! 

ANTISTROPHE  B. 

Let  not  her  tomb  unhonored  lie. 

But  stand  a temple  fair, 

A height  where  many  a passer-by 
Shall  offer  up  this  prayer: 

“Ah,  once  this  gentle  lady  died 
To  save  her  lord  my  king; 


ALCESTIS 


37 


Now  may  her  spirit  glorified 
Attend  the  prayer  I bring!” 

EXODOS. 

Ch.Leader.  Now,  as  I think,  Alcmene’s  son,  oh  King, 

Comes  back  to  claim  thine  hospitality. 

Enter  Heracles  with  Alcestis  Veiled. 

Her.  Before  a friend  one  ought  to  speak  the  truth, 
Admetus,  not  to  hide  away  one’s  woe 
And  cause  for  grief  within  a silent  breast. 

I deemed  myself  a trusted  friend  of  thine, 

Worthy  of  knowing  thy  calamities. 

Thou  didst  not  tell  me  ’twas  thy  wife  had  died 
But  to  thy  home  receivedst  me,  all  as  though 
The  dead  one  were  a stranger  at  thy  hearth. 

So  while  thou  wast  bowed  down  with  such  a grief 
I crowned  my  head,  and  in  this  saddened  house 
I made  libations  to  the  gods  of  drink. 

Blame  should  be  thine  for  treating  thus  thy 
friend ; 

Yet  I would  not  add  blame  to  misery. 

Now  hear  the  reason  why  I turned  my  steps 
And  came  again  to  thy  bereaved  abode: 

This  woman  keep  for  me  till  I return, 

Leading  from  wintry  Thrace  the  steeds  I seek, 
When  I have  slain  the  great  Bistonian  king. 

But  if  I die — as  Zeus  grant  I may  not. 

But  may  my  father  grant  a safe  return! 

I give  her  thee  to  serve  within  thy  home. 

I won  her  with  a struggle  as  thou  shalt  hear, 
For  on  my  way  I found  a town  engaged 
In  holding  contests  of  their  athletes’  prowess; 
From  thence  I won  and  brought  away  my  prize. 
To  those  who  conquered  in  the  lighter  games 
Horses  were  given;  for  the  heavier  sports, 

Boxing  and  wrestling,  cattle  were  the  prize, 

And  with  the  cattle  came  the  woman  too. 


38 


ALCESTIS 


As  I was  passing,  how  could  I neglect 
The  opportunity?  So,  as  I said, 

Be  careful  of  this  lady.  I stole  her  not, 

But  won  her  by  the  wrestling  of  these  arms. 
Some  day,  perhaps,  thou  wilt  approve  my  gift. 
Adm.  ’Twas  not  dishonoring  or  hating  thee 
I hid  the  sad  misfortune  of  my  wife; 

But  it  had  been  a grief  upon  a grief 
If  thou  hadst  gone  to  bide  with  other  host. 
Enough  to  mourn  a sorrow  of  mine  own. 

As  for  the  woman,  I beseech  thee,  prince, 

Find,  if  thou  canst,  some  man  of  Thessaly — 

And  thou  hast  multitudes  of  Pherae-friends — 
Find  one  (who  hath  not  lost  what  I have  lost) 

To  take  and  keep  this  woman  safe  for  thee, 

Lest  thou  remind  me  of  calamity. 

I could  not  keep  from  weeping  should  I see 
Her  in  my  halls.  Add  not  disease  to  one 
Diseased;  for  now  I am  weighed  down  enough 
With  hard  misfortune.  Where  in  all  the  house 
Could  we  bestow  so  beautiful  a woman? 

By  her  attire  she  shows  that  she  is  young; 

Then  shall  she  share  my  palace  with  my  men? 
Nay;  how  could  she  dwell  purely  with  them  here? 
I have  regard  to  the  safety  of  thy  prize, 

And  young  men’s  hearts,  oh  Heracles,  are  wild! 
Shall  I maintain  her  in  my  dead  wife’s  rooms? 
How  could  I bid  her  take  that  bridal  couch? 

For  that  I fear  a censure  doubly  just, 

Both  from  the  town,  a charge  that  I 
Am  traitor  to  the  wife  who  worked  my  weal, 

And  from  the  dead,  well  worth  my  reverence. 
With  caution  must  I guard  my  words  and  deeds. 

But  thou,  O lady,  whosoe’er  thou  art, 

Remindest  me  in  form  and  gentle  mien 
Of  my  Alcestis. — Take  her  from  my  sight! 

Slay  not  the  slain.  As  I behold  her  there 
I seem  to  see  my  wife  before  my  face. 


ALCESTIS 


39 


She  grieves  my  heart,  and  from  my  welling  eyes 
The  tears  of  anguish  flow.  It  is  at  last 
My  lot  to  know  the  bitterness  of  loss! 

Cho.  I could  not  call  thy  lot  a happy  one. 

But  one  must  bear,  however  fortune  leads, 

The  trials  laid  upon  him  by  the  gods. 

Her.  Oh  that  I had  the  power  to  end  thy  grief, 

And  bring  thy  wife  from  Hades’  nether  halls 
To  see  again  the  glorious  light  of  life! 

How  freely  would  I take  the  risk  for  thee. 

Adm.  I know  that  thou  wouldst  wish  it.  What  of  that? 

The  dead  come  never  to  life’s  light  again. 

Her.  Be  not  excessive.  Sturdily  bear  up! 

Adm.  ’Tis  easier  to  advise  “bear  up”  than  bear. 

Her.  What  wouldst  thou  gain  shouldst  thou  persist  in 
grief? 

Adm.  ’Tis  not  for  gain.  My  passion  leads  me  on! 

Her.  To  love  the  dead  thrusts  on  a man  to  tears — 
Adm.  And  ruins  me  and — more  than  I can  tell. 

Her.  Thou  hast  lost  a noble  wife.  Who  would  deny? 
Adm.  So  that  I care  no  longer  for  my  life. 

Her.  Ah,  time  will  heal;  thy  misery  is  new. 

Adm.  Yea,  time  may  heal,  if  the  Time  thou  mean’st  be 
Death. 

Her.  A wife  and  other  loves  will  comfort  thee. 

Adm.  Hush!  How  thou  speakest!  There  my  mind  re- 
volts. 

Her.  Revolts?  Not  wed — but  keep  a widowed  couch? 
Adm.  No  wife  shall  ever  lie  beside  this  man. 

Her.  That  vow  can  never  help  the  dead  at  all. 

Adm.  I ought  to  honor  her  where’er  she  is. 

Her.  I praise  thee,  but  the  world  will  call  thee  fool. 
Adm.  Ay,  call  me  fool,  but  bridegroom  call  me  not. 
Her.  I praise  thee,  thou  art  faithful  to  thy  wife. 

Adm.  When  I forsake  her  may  I meet  my  death. 

Her.  Well,  take  this  slave  of  mine  within  the  house. 
Adm.  No,  by  thy  father  Zeus,  I beg  of  thee. 

Her.  If  thou  dost  not,  it  is  thine  own  mistake. 


40 


ALCESTIS 


Adm.  But,  if  I do,  I sting  my  heart  with  woe. 

Her.  Obey!  This  favor  may  a duty  prove. 

Adm.  Ah  me!  Would  thou  hadst  never  won  the  prize. 
Her.  But,  since  I won,  my  prize  is  thine  as  well. 

Adm.  Thy  words  are  fair,  but  let  the  woman  go. 

Her.  She  goes  if  go  she  must,  but  must  she  go? 

Adm.  She  must,  unless  her  going  angers  thee. 

Her.  I know  a thing  thou  dost  not;  so  insist. 

Adm.  I yield,  although  I am  unwilling  still. 

Her.  Sometime  thou  wilt  thank  me  for  it;  now  obey. 
Adm.  Then,  servants,  take  her  in,  if  this  must  be. 

Her.  To  servants  I shall  not  entrust  this  prize. 

Adm.  Then  take  the  woman  to  the  house  thyself. 

Her.  Not  I,  but  thou  shalt  lead  her  to  thy  door. 

Adm.  I will  not  touch  her;  let  her  go  alone. 

Her.  To  thy  right  arm  alone  I hand  her  safe. 

Adm.  Compelled  by  thee,  I act  against  my  will. 

Her.  Take  heart;  stretch  forth  thy  hand  and  touch  thy 
guest. 

Adm.  I stretch  my  hand  but  turn  my  head  away 

As  though  there  were  a Gorgon’s  head  to  see! 

Her.  You  have  her? 

Adm.  Yes. 

Her.  Keep  her  in  safety  then! 

Count  Heracles  a guest  both  kind  and  good. 

But  glance  at  her  and  see  if  she  doth  still 
Resemble  thy  dear  wife.  Methinks  she  doth; 
Then  let  thy  grief  turn  joy  and  happiness. 

Adm.  Ye  gods!  What  shall  I say?  A miracle! 

Nay,  mocking  gods  have  sent  an  empty  joy. 

Her.  Not  so,  thou  dost  behold  thy  very  wife. 

Adm.  I fear  thou’st  brought  some  phantom  from  the 
shades. 

Her.  Thou  never  knewst  me  juggle  with  their  ghosts. 
Adm.  It  cannot  be  the  wife  whom  I entombed. 

Her.  I do  not  marvel  at  thy  lack  of  faith. 

Adm.  But  may  I speak  and  touch  her  as  I used? 

Her.  Yes,  speak.  For  thou  hast  all  thou  didst  desire. 


ALCESTIS 


41 


Adm.  Oh  face  and  form  the  dearest  and  the  best, 

I have  thee, — a vision  I had  dared  not  hope. 

Her.  Thou  hast  her;  may  there  be  no  jealous  gods! 

Adm.  O noble  son  of  greatest  Zeus,  I pray 

That  happiness  be  thine;  thy  sire  I pray 
To  keep  thee  safely.  Thou  alone  restoredst 
Mine  own  to  me.  But  tell  me  how  thou  broughtest 
The  dead  from  darkness  to  the  light  of  life. 

Her.  By  joining  battle  with  the  god  of  Death. 

Adm.  Come,  tell  the  story  of  thy  fight  with  Death. 

Her.  I hid  me  by  the  tomb  and  clutched  him  there. 

Adm.  Why  stands  she  thus  in  silent  revery? 

Her.  Thou  hast  no  right  to  hear  her  voice  until, 
Released  from  the  nether  gods  by  offerings 
And  purifying  rites  which  she  shall  make, 

The  third  day  comes  and  she  is  free  to  speak. 
But  lead  thy  wife  within  and  honest  still 
In  future  days,  Admetus,  have  regard 
To  all  thy  guests.  Farewell.  I go  to  do 
The  labor  that  my  lord  Eurystheus  bids. 

Adm.  Good  friend,  remain  with  us  and  share  our  hearth. 

Her.  Some  time  I may,  I now  must  hasten  on. 

Adm.  Success  be  thine,  I pray,  and  mayst  thou  come 
With  homeward  joy.  Let  citizens  in  all 
The  land  make  dances  for  our  fortune  turned 
By  thee  from  bad  to  good.  Let  altars  reek 
With  blood  in  purifying  sacrifice. 

We  must  confess  that  now  we  set  our  lives 
To  happier  harmonies  than  heretofore. 

Cho.  Oh  many  the  changes  that  Fortune  may  bring, 

And  to  us  who  are  faithless  the  gods  love  to  fling 
The  gifts  we  despair  of  in  long  suffering, 

To  reveal  us  our  hope  while  we  hopelessly  sing. — 
So  endeth  our  song  for  our  queen  and  our  king. 


